Abomination
by saltydean
Summary: What’s worse than a drunk John and a carefree Sammy? The drunk John hitting the so called carefree Sammy. A one-shot in which John gets angry, Sam gets hit, and Dean gets protective. Lots of emotion and brotherly-fluff between Dean and Sam later on. NO INCESTS.
1. chapter 1

**A/N: this is my first story on . It's short but I hope you guys like it!**

 **Summary:** **What's worse than a drunk John and a carefree Sammy? The drunk John hitting the so called carefree Sammy.**

 **A one-shot in which John gets angry, Sam gets hit, and Dean gets protective. Lots of emotion and brotherly-fluff between Dean and Sam later on. NO INCESTS.**

 ** _Teen!chesters._**

 ** _Sam is 14 and Dean is 18._**

 ** _xxxxxxxxxxx_**

Heavy breathing and the sound of loud gulps was what made Sam anxious. He knew that nothing ever went well when his father was drinking, especially not when Dean had already pissed the man off.

The oldest of the brothers and John had, had a huge argument over something as small as Dean getting home 15 minutes later than his curfew. He had tried explaining to his father that he had planned on getting home on time, but was caught up in traffic on the way to the motel. Whether that was the truth or a small lie was unknown, but either way, there was no reasoning with John, especially not when he was drunk.

Now Dean was cooped up in his and Sam's temporary room, meaning Sam was torn between either getting yelled at by his older brother if he tried to enter the bedroom, or having to risk doing his homework in the presence of his father.

Dealing with Dean would have been the better option, but Sam knew his dysfunctional family well enough; if he gets Dean mad, Dean yells, then Dad gets mad, and Dad yells.

So of course, he stuck with staying in the somewhat slightly safer zone. But then again, when are Winchester's ever safe?

Sam wrote down the answer to the last question of his math homework before placing his pencil down, picking up his glass of water, and tiredly taking a sip out of it.

That's when everything went haywire.

As Sam placed his drink down on the table, it happened to have landed right on top of his short, overused pencil before tipping over and crashing onto the floor, shattering into multiple tiny pieces as the room-temperature water pooled on the kitchen table and wooden floor.

The young, tired boy didn't even get the chance to fully comprehend what happened before he was pulled out of his seat, a tight, unfriendly hand gripping onto the collar of what was once his older brother's shirt before he had grown out of it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" John growled loudly, letting go of his youngest son, glaring at him angrily.

Sam flinched at the sudden outburst and the heavy smell of alcohol that came from his father's mouth.

"I didn't mean to, Dad." Sam said firmly at first, hoping the steadiness and honesty in his voice would get John to calm down.

"The hell you didn't." He barked, inching closer to the nervous boy. "You think it's okay to just go around breaking things?"

"No." He shook his head, he couldn't help the shakiness in his voice this time.

"That's 10 bucks you've cost us. You realize that?" John slurred. "You carefree, inconsiderate abomination."

"I said didn't mean to." Sam repeated, surprising himself at the raise in his tone toward his father.

The man gave a look of bewilderment as well, before chuckling drunkly, slamming his son towards the wall, his hand gripping onto his collar once again. His mood suddenly changing once again into a furious one.

"Who do you think you are?" John hissed, the smell of alcohol following every slow word he spoke. "How dare you talk back to me?"

"At least I'm not the drunk." Sam mumbled, not realizing how much of a bad idea saying that was.

Oh how he wished his dad didn't get to angry when they failed a hunt— angry enough to down multiple bottles of alcohol and get to the point where he was holding his youngest up against the wall, definitely leaving a mark on his fragile chest.

"What did you just say to me, boy?" John yelled, letting go of Sam and giving him a threatening look.

Now, Sam was about to cowardly reply with a, 'nothing, sir.' However, of course his sharp tongue got the best of him, and instead of saying what he knew he should have said, he did exactly what he shouldn't have done.

"You heard me." Sam growled, standing up straight, although he could feel his heart beating rapidly and knees quivering like never before— worse than they did on hunts that freaked him out. Standing up to his father was for some reason far more scarier, but he did it anyway.

The next few seconds happened in such a rush though, because before Sam knew it, he was suddenly slammed back into the wall, except this time, instead of feeling a pressure on his chest, he felt a stinging sensation on his cheek that definitely felt like it was reddening.

Both Sam's and his dad's eyes widened as they realized what John had just done. But Sam didn't cry like anyone would have expected him to, instead, he sucked back the tears that forced to spill out, and flared at his so called father with nothing other than pure hatred and anger.

"Sam, I-" But before John could apologize, he was cut off.

By Dean. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

For some reason, Sam expected for that disgusted statement to be directed at himself, because he's always the one that messes up, but instead, he found his older brother marching up in front of their father and shoving him against the wall.

"You think it's okay to just beat your own son? That's called abuse, dad!" Dean yelled out angrily, having so much more to say.

"Dean-" Sam tried prying his furious brother away from their only parent who's eyes were now filled with regret, seeming to have completely come out of his drunken-trance.

"No, Sam. Stay out of this." Dean gently pushed his brother back. "Go to our room."

"But Dean-"

"Go, now." Dean ordered, giving his brother a dead-serious expression.

Sam backed away, knowing that if he couldn't reason with his own father earlier, there's no way he could reason with Dean in this state.

"You're unbelievable. I thought you'd just yell at him or something– never this! How could you?" Dean continued once again.

"Dean, I'm so, so sorry." John pleaded, looking for any sign of forgiveness from Dean, wanting so desperately to be allowed to go and hug his youngest son who's heart he had probably broken.

"The hell you are!" Dean barked, the anger never wearing off. "What the hell, dad? You're always the one telling me to protect Sammy, and then you do the exact opposite? How could you hit him?"

"Dean, you have no idea how much I regret it. I do, so, so much. I wasn't thinking, you know I'd never do something like this to Sam— to either of you."

The eighteen-year-old shook his head in disbelief, stepping away from his father— could he even call or refer to him as that anymore? _Our father, the man who hit Sammy._

Dean didn't want to do this anymore, at least not now. He just wanted to make sure Sam was okay.

"I'll go and apologize— r-right now. I'm so sorry." John suddenly spoke up, his eyes tearing up as if what had happened had just fully came into realization to him now.

"No way, not when you're like this." Dean snarled, looking at his father in complete seriousness. "You don't go anywhere near him tonight."

"Son-" John was about to entreat when Dean started walking away, but was immediately cut off.

"Don't call me that." Dean snarled, not looking back at the man even for a second. He had to go check on Sammy.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the second chapter! This is where all the emotions and comfort begins. Remember this is just pure brotherly fluff and nothing more. My content will NEVER consist of incest.**

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When Dean had stormed off from the argument with his father about how he pretty much abused Sam, Dean wasn't greeted by an upset or crying Sam that he thought he'd have to awkwardly comfort.

All he saw when he entered their room was darkness. Sam was lying in his bed, snuggled up under his blankets, seemingly fast asleep.

"Sam?" Dean whispered in his naturally rapsy whisper, not getting a response.

Although Dean wasn't too convinced, he stopped himself from double checking, knowing that both he and Sam were exhausted and deciding he'd leave it be until at least tomorrow.

So Dean let himself fall asleep, waking up a few times in the middle of the night because he could have sworn he heard some sniffling. But again, Dean was Dean and decided it convince himself that he was probably just imagining things and that if it was anything, Sammy wouldn't want to be caught upset.

Of course Sammy didn't want to be caught upset. That was exactly why he was hiding completely under his blanket for the majority of the night, tears continuously having to be blinked away. Every time he remembered the things his dad had said and done, the young boy kept getting this feeling in his chest, like his heart was being stabbed multiple times. He couldn't believe this was happening, and he couldn't help but think that this was all his fault.

He really didn't realize how loud the hitches in his breath were until Dean started stirring again, yawning tiredly as he forced his eyes open, blinking to clear the grogginess of his vision before turning his head to face the bed that contained a silently crying Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke, breaking the silence that the night held. Sam bit his lip, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"Sam." He said more firmly this time. When he once again got no reply, he sighed in frustration and stood up, switching the lights on and lying back down on his small bed. "Sam, I know you're awake."

That finally got Sam to sigh and turn to face his older brother who held an expression of both concern and irritability at Sam's secretive and distant behavior.

"What?" He yawned, pretending to have just woken up even though fresh tears were clearly staining his puffy cheeks.

"You okay?" Dean raised an eyebrow, looking at his brother expectantly.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Sam tired his best to sound nonchalant, avoiding eye contact and lying back down on his back.

 _That_ made Dean a lot more annoyed. He rolled his eyes at his brother's almighty cover, sitting up and looking directly at Sam.

"Alright, cut the crap."

"What?"

"You know what I mean, Sam. Sit up." Dean ordered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but okay..." The younger boy did as he was told, still not giving the eye-contact Dean wanted.

"So you're telling me that what dad said— what dad _did_ , didn't hurt you?" Dean questioned, another pang of pang if pain slamming internally into Sam's chest at the memory, but he shook his head. "At all?" Dean added.

The two brother's spent a solid minute just looking each other in the eye. The wordless communication that the two Winchester brothers were having right now was what finally got the fourteen-year-old's eyes to start glossing over with tears once again. He blinked them back, but more continued to form. His older brother just looked so disappointed in him, Sam thought. He probably blamed him for getting their dad mad.

"Sammy," Dean sighed, suddenly not knowing what to say.

"I didn't mean to." Sam whimpered, his lip quivering as he sat up straighter trying to stop himself from full out crying. "I just- I was tired a-and it fell and broke and dad got all m-mad and I should have sh-shut up and not have been so rude and s-such- such an abomination a-and-"

Dean was about to jump right into trying to calm his brother down before the waterworks could continue, but then he paused after realizing what Sam had just told him.

"An abomination? Is that what dad said to you? That you're an abomination?"

It killed him to see Sam like this. He looked so small and frail, like a simple blow of wind could knock him down. His left cheek was still red from the unnecessary slap, and his eyes were blood-shot red from all the crying he had been doing secretly.

"Dean, it's-"

"Answer me, Sam." Dean frowned, clenching his fists angrily.

Sam nodded slowly, and that's all it took for Dean to jump onto his feet, ready to storm out of the room and go give their father a piece of his mind.

"Dean, please don't." Sam pleaded, making Dean turn to look at him. Just seeing the look on his baby brother's face was enough to replace most of the anger in his expression with empathy and concern, and he sighed once again, giving into his brother's wishes.

Dean sat down beside his little brother, wrapping a strong arm around his small frame.

"You're not an abomination, kiddo." Dean whispered, squeezing Sam closer to him. "I would know, I've dealt with you my whole life." He added, hoping it would lighten the mood and at least make Sam crack a smile, but it didn't.

Sam didn't seem to believe a single word his older brother was saying.

"It's just a dumb cup, alright? No one should care about that stuff." Dean reasoned, wanting Sam to know that this wasn't his fault at all.

"Dad did." He mumbled, pulling away from Dean slowly. He fisted his eyes harshly in hopes it would stop the tears that refused to come to a halt, to no avail. The only thing that resulted in was Dean pulling away his little brother's stressfully clenched fists that were doing nothing but hurting his poor, sad eyes.

"Yeah, well dad also thinks that getting drunk will solve all his problems. He's wrong... about everything he said and did tonight." He retorted, pulling Sam close to him once again. "You understand me, Sammy? You're not an abomination or anything like that, I promise you."

Sam said nothing, and instead ran his hand down his cheek that still stung a bit.

"You didn't deserve that either, Sammy." Dean noticed Sam's actions and instantly reassured him, feeling frustrated when he was reminded of the mark that their so-called father had left on his face.

"B-but I talked back to him. I was rude."

"That's no excuse to hit your own kid." Dean hissed, the anger toward his father returning, but he dialed it down when he saw that the tears rolling down Sam's cheeks decided to continue falling shamelessly.

"C'mere." He whispered, pulling Sam even closer to him, allowing him to bury his face in his comforting chest, but not expecting Sam to suddenly break down into sobs. "Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay, Sammy, it's okay."

"'M sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're okay, Sammy. Hey, c'mon now, calm down."

Dean did his best to coax his baby brother, whispering sweet-nothing's into his ears and rubbing his back gently, just like he remembered their mom used to do whenever baby Sammy started crying in the middle of the night.

"It's alright, Sammy. Dad's really sorry, he is." Dean whispered into Sam's mop of messy brown hair, kissing his head as the kid continued to cling onto his big brother. "Don't you cry no more."

They stayed that way for a while until Sam's tears came to a halt and all that could be heard were the occasional sniffles and hitches in his breath.

"Did soaking my shirt make you feel better?" Dean tried breaking the ice, smiling softly.

Sam let out a shaky, small but genuine chuckle at his brother's joke before nodding tiredly and lying down next to his big brother, his eyes slowly drooping closed.

"None of this is your fault, alright?"

Sam nodded into his brother's plaid flannel, but deep down he still couldn't help but blame himself for all the anger and hatred in their small, dysfunctional family now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A few people seemed to really like the last two chapters so I decided to do a third one. Hope you like it!**

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Brightness of the sunlight that shone through the cheap, thin curtains was the first thing Dean saw when he had woken up. Last night's incident hadn't come to his mind at all until he noticed a light pressure on his arm. He looked down and mentally cooed when he saw his little brother's head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep.

The fourteen year old's eyes were puffy even when they were closed from all the crying that had occurred last night, and unfortunately his cheek was still a bit red which made Dean frown disappointedly.

Not wanting to wake Sam up since the both of them, especially Sam, had gotten little to no sleep, Dean decided to just stay in the current position they were in; him lying on his back, one hand under Sammy who's head was resting on Dean's shoulder.

He remembered sleeping like this for months after they had brought Sammy into the hunting life. Sam would get nightmares every single night, images of the haunting creatures appearing in his head. Since their father was exactly the most comforting person ever, Dean was always there for Sam and that was never going to change, no matter how old they were.

Sam stirred softly before tiredly opening eyes, only to reveal redness that made Dean want to slam his fists into walls. Sam was always a tough kid, didn't cry or get upset that often unless it was a nightmare. So Dean knew that how much he had cried last night showed how effective the situation was on him. Who wouldn't be at least shedding a few tears if their only parent had hit them and said all those nasty things to them?

"Sleep well, kiddo?" Dean raised an eyebrow, a small, sympathetic smile on his face.

Sam nodded, lying obviously because the kid could barely keep his eyes open! See? Even after a fight as bad as the one last night, he still tried his hardest to stay tough and brave.

"Is... is he awake?" Sam sat up slowly, wiping the sleepiness out of his eyes.

"I don't know, but don't worry, alright? C'mon." Dean couldn't even imagine how anxious Sam must have been.

Once both brother's were wide awake and ready for the unwanted, they exited their room and made their way to the kitchen where they expected to be greeted by a probably hungover and still very apologetic and regretful father.

But no. The only things they saw when they got to the kitchen was a piece of paper with some writing on it.

"Dad?" Dean called out loudly, not getting a response.

Sam hesitantly walked up to the card, giving his brother a quick glance before scanning through it. It had the simple words, ' _I'm so sorry, Sammy. Love you boys - Dad,_ " written on it.

"What?" Dean asked agitatedly when he saw his brother's eyes start to tear up. "What is it?"

"He's gone." Sam muttered in frustration, angrily passing the letter to his brother before raking his hand through his hair stressfully.

Dean quickly read through the blunt note, dumping it on the table and cursing under his breath. "Dammit, Dad."

"Why did he have to leave? I swear, I didn't mean it Dean." The younger boy sat down at the table, burying his face in his hands as he shook his head.

This just proved how all of this was Sam's fault. If he hadn't had been so disrespectful last night then none of this would have happened.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean frowned, watching his brother in frustration.

"He wouldn't have left if I hadn't have said those things!" Sam exclaimed as if it were obvious, fisting his eyes harshly to stop the freshly falling tears. "I should've just shut my mouth."

"Woah, hey. I thought we already talked about this! This has _nothing_ to do with what you said, okay? _Nothing_." The taller Winchester stated firmly, lifting Sam's head up to look Sam right in the eye.

"But, Dean-" The youngest boy whimpered, about to protest.

"No, but's, Sammy, okay? Besides, we don't even know it he left; he could just be on a hunt."

"Dad _never_ leaves without writing down where he's going or what he's doing." His voice cracked once again, breaking Dean's heart.

"But-" Dean sat down in front of his brother, and was about to reply, but cut himself off after seeing how Sam's eyes were still pooled with tears that were at the verge of spilling, and his bottom lip was quivering. "Hey, stop that."

"Wh-what?"

"That— there's no need to cry again, Sammy."

"I c-can't hel-help it. He left because of me." And then the tears finally began to fall from the sad boy's eyes, resulting in his two annoyed and clenched hands to start fisting at them _again_ in hopes of stopping his crying.

"It's not your fault, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Dean stressed. "Stop doing that, you're hurting yourself." He pulled the boy's aggressive hands away from his face. It seemed like they were going through last night all over again.

Sam didn't reply, making Dean sigh for the hundredth time within the last 9 hours.

"He was being the bitch, alright? Not you. You stuck up for yourself, which I'm very proud of you for doing, okay? And you better promise me you keep sefensing yourself like that." Dean told him reassuringly, pulling Sam's hands away from his tear-stained face. "If he really did leave, then that's because he's a coward that couldn't face his own mistakes. _He_ hit _you_ , and then he ran away."

"It hurts." Sam whimpered shakily, his bottom lip shaking.

"I think there's some ice in the freezer. I'll go get-"

"No, Dean." Sam said shakily, making Dean realize what he meant. Realizing how much all of this meant to his baby brother made Dean frown sadly. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his Sammy this vulnerable, which was probably because there had never been an event bad enough that caused him to be vulnerable _at all_ other than when he had bad dreams, but those stopped ages ago.

"I know it does, buddy." Dean said softly, standing up and pulling Sam into his arms, squeezing him tightly. "I'm sure he'll come back, alright? I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for everything he said and did. It'll all be okay, Sammy."

"But what if it isn't?" He couldn't stop worrying.

"Then we'll figure it out together. Just you and me." The eighteen-year-old guaranteed, rocking the smaller boy back and forth comfortingly. Normally an emotional brotherly situation like this would end in a couple of laughs and some teasing, but Dean knew well enough how much this meant to Sam, so he didn't even think about it. "We'll be okay."

"Dean?" The smallness of his voice made Dean's heart clench, knowing whatever was going to come out of the fourteen-year-old's mouth was going to sound very broken and desperate.

"Yeah?"

"Mom left us, a- and Dad left us... promise me you'll never leave?"

"I promise, Sammy."


End file.
